


Come Alive

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Lawyers, M/M, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 20:38:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared was preparing for his first big case and Jensen, the controlling and power-heavy partner of the law firm, mentored Jared to confidence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Alive

**Author's Note:**

> For an anonymous donor for the AO3 charity drive. She asked for lawyers with asshole-ish Jensen.

Jared wiped his brow and took a deep breath. He could do this, he knew he could. He’d practiced these exact words nearly two dozen times in his bathroom mirror last night. 

“And as you’ll see, The Jones Foundation, despite its character as _your community friend_ , was instead ...”

Jared fought for the next line as all words jumbled in his mind. This was so much easier when he was standing alone in his bathroom, just a tank and boxers keeping him cool. 

Right now, his tie was too tight, his jacket too heavy on his shoulders, and Jensen’s glare from across room was sending an array of mixed messages to Jared’s brain, stomach, and dick. 

Jared was in so much trouble at this second, forgetting his lines, and yet there was a steady undercurrent of want throbbing through his system. 

“Instead,” he started again with a quick breath and a glance around the empty conference room, “they funneled money through second-hand sources and—”

“Start again.”

When Jared looked to Jensen, his stomach flipped in reading angry disappointment on his boss’s face. Jared cleared his throat and stepped closer to the conference table to steady himself, but he saw Jensen shake his head, so Jared took a quick step back.

 _You stand tall in that room, command it. Be a tall, proud man,_ Jensen had told him weeks ago when they first started this training exercise. _They’ll believe half-lies from a whole man._

Jared took a deep breath, straightened his spine, and tweaked the edges of his suit jacket. In the corner, Jensen continued to lean against the oak counter that housed all of the classy bar keepings inside. The thought of whiskey being so close made Jared uneasy, wanting to beg for a drink to settle him, but he knew Jensen wouldn’t let him. 

Jensen was the boss, after all. What he said went. 

“Start. Again,” Jensen commanded. His arms crossed against his perfectly tailored slate grey suit, emerald tie in a neat knot that brought out the vibrancy of Jensen’s eyes.

Jared knew he shouldn’t be so entranced by his boss’s eyes, not in a moment like this, but some things couldn’t be helped. Like the excessively strong feelings that have grown since the first day Jared stepped foot into Ackles & Collins. 

Jensen had a strong reputation as a grinning shark—he could play cool and steady while rubbing elbows and charming his way into backrooms and private conversations. Yet in the courtroom, he always went for the kill. And in the office, he slashed at jugulars to get work done. Jared hadn’t yet personally experienced the full wrath of what his coworkers called _The Mad Jackal_ behind closed doors, but he’d heard it enough through closed doors and supposedly thick walls to understand that the slightest screw up could produce a pink slip.

For the last seven years, Jared had worked safely under Misha Collins’ thumb, running down bare threads of leads and coming up with stacks of facts that solidified case after case. In the last year, Misha handed Jared off to Jensen to strengthen his courtroom appearances, which to this point had only ever included sitting a silent third chair.

The Jones Foundation was a new case, nothing like Jensen’s pet project of bringing down Pellegrino Chemicals for its poor treatment of effluent from its plants. No, the Jones Foundation was more of a favor to Misha, whose aunt had been conned by the supposedly non-profit. 

Jared understood the need to keep Misha away from the case and focused on bigger cases, but he didn’t get why Jensen had selected him for opening arguments. 

Nearly a decade out of law school and Jared still felt like an undergrad trying to impress his professor. 

“In 1997, we all heard the news,” Jared began with a soft, nearly wistful voice. “Meredith Jones’ dying wish was to fund the redevelopment of the Swift Valley arts district …”

As Jared went on with the background, Jensen watched with a lethal stare. The second his eyes drifted south, Jared locked his knees and popped his shoulders out as if demanding the jury’s attention. 

“… And so many of the art spaces were filled to the brim with paintings, sculptures, chic designers, and yet the last lot was still standing in the form of a two-story Victorian home that had been handed down through the Evans family for three genera—”

“Do you think they really care?” Jensen asked with a roll of his eyes evident in his voice.

Jared nearly gulped, but maintained his composure when he faced his boss. “Build a story,” he replied, reciting one of the first pieces of mentoring Jensen had ever shared with him. “You always said to—”

“Yeah, build one. Don’t bury it in a thousand words.” Jensen pushed off the counter and strolled across the room with smooth strides that accentuated the slim lines of his body. “You have about a hundred words a minute, and ten minutes to deliver your opening. You know what that means?”

“A thousand words to speak my point,” Jared answered swiftly. 

“Make it interesting,” Jensen demanded. “Make me care. I don’t care right now.”

Jared nearly adjusted himself at the dark flare of Jensen’s voice, and instead shifted his weight to his left foot. He pushed his shoulders out and stuffed his hands into his pants pockets to emulate his mentor for just a fraction of a second. Then he let himself deflate back to the easy going guy who walked these halls with a smile for years. 

“And don’t get too cutesy,” Jensen warned with a quick glare. “Be a man about it.”

Licking his lips, Jared settled in to start his opening lines again, this time trying his best to weave a story that could engage an audience. 

As he talked, Jensen rounded the room, even slinking behind Jared, which only made Jared stutter.

“Start again,” Jensen instructed in a low voice.

When Jensen moved out from behind Jared with a sharp glance over his shoulder, Jared shuddered then frowned when he realized Jensen’s raised eyebrow meant he saw it. And that he was judging. 

Jared cleared his throat and lifted his lips with a deep inhale. He blew out the breath through his lips, flicking his hair away from his forehead.

“Grace Evans was third generation in a two-story Victorian that complemented the Swift Valley Arts District …” As Jared went on with his thoughts, Jensen stepped in front of him. Jared was determined to remain undeterred. “And we’ll prove that Mrs. Evans was hounded and tricked out of her own home, and swindled out of even more money when—”

Jensen stepped even closer and Jared’s voice stuttered once again, cracking and settling far too low when he attempted to control himself. The words came out, ones chosen wisely, but his eyes zeroed in on Jensen’s, which were staring far too fiercely in return. 

Remarkably, Jared was focused across the room, looking away from Jensen at all costs while he continued on with his story. He built up the case and felt his confidence growing the longer Jensen let him talk. It was likely dark out by now; they’d been at this for hours, and finally Jensen was letting him talk without interruption.

When the last sentence carried out in the empty room, Jared held his breath and cautioned a glance to Jensen who remained stoic as ever with those penetrating eyes. 

There were no sounds aside from the feverish beating of Jared’s heart echoing in his ears. Jensen continued to stare, to assess Jensen, with his gaze becoming more intense the longer they looked at one another. 

Jared considered those plush lips pursed in near-irritation and the smoothness of Jensen’s sharp jaw and the curve of his brow line. He finally let the air out of his tight lungs through his nose and his shoulders deflated. His stomach was swirling something fierce, but his mouth was drier than the dessert when he opened his mouth to speak.

“Again,” Jensen said quietly. 

Once Jensen walked around him, Jared rolled his eyes and scowled. Seconds later, he picked up the first few sentences, sprinkling in more to make the story work.

“Grace Evans, 77, lived in her grandparents’ Victorian at the tail end of the Swift Valley Arts District. She was an active member in her community, and especially in the revitalization of the block. She loved her city and loved the arts, so she wanted nothing more than to give it space to thrive where she had lived her entire life."

Once he brought in the Jones Foundation, he could sense Jensen directly behind him, as if Jensen’s shadow enclosed him. Warmth came to the surface and Jared felt sweat build beneath the collar of his shirt and across his back when Jensen’s presence drew closer. 

“She wasn’t bought out of her home,” Jared said firmly, even as he felt Jensen’s steady breathing on the back of his neck. “She was tricked out of it. And then the Jones Foundation asked her for more. They asked for—”

Jensen’s hand slid over his hip and Jared twitched away a few inches. Yet, Jensen’s hand closed over the bend of Jared’s side and gripped, pulling Jared back into place. “Keep going,” Jensen murmured darkly.

Jared cleared his throat and kept his eyes straight ahead even as he wanted to look down to confirm that Jensen was indeed now holding him in place with both hands on his hips. “They asked her for more with a false promise of investments in the very district she’d be happy to help build with her own hands.”

The prickly breath on Jared’s neck shifted along with Jensen who stepped up close enough that his firm chest was not pressed up tight to Jared’s back. 

Still, Jared continued on, even as the words trailed out on nerves and was caught every long exhale. Even as he was growing half-hard while fighting through his opening argument.

And then Jensen’s hand moved along Jared’s belt and his fingers feathered downward. 

“And she—” Jared huffed a breath and turned his head. “What are you—”

“Stay focused,” Jensen said right in Jared’s ear, and Jared had to close his eyes at the heat fluttering across the shell of his ear. 

“And she trusted the wrong people,” Jared let out in a rush because Jensen’s hand was then sliding downward. He gulped audibly in the quiet room and Jensen cupped him through his pants, surely able to feel how Jared was getting hard. 

The strength of Jensen’s fingers pressed against Jared was doing no favors, but Jensen didn’t relent. Not even when Jared couldn’t choke out one single word. “Why is that?” Jensen murmured.

Jared stuttered out a quick breath and swallowed hard. “Why is what?”

Jensen’s lips brushed against the shell of Jared’s ear when he asked, “Why did she trust the wrong people?”

Clearing his throat, Jared mumbled, “Because they took her money and invested it back into their foundation.”

“Good.” Jensen’s gentle squeeze was no more a reward than punishment, and Jared whimpered when Jensen’s fingers continued to rub against him. “You did really good that round.”

“No, I didn’t.” Jared wavered on his feet as Jensen’s hand moved just a touch faster to stroke Jared through his pants.

“Oh?”

Now, Jensen sounded amused and Jared began to smile at the sound of it. “I did _well_.”

Jensen chuckled low then slid his hand down further just to stroke back up the entire length of Jared, who was now fully hard and straining against the zipper of his tailored pants. They weren’t cheap, but they were a needed investment for this job. And while Jared didn’t want to stop Jensen, he had no interested in ruining them. Yet, Jensen’s deep voice kept Jared entranced and warm. 

“You’re smart, Jared. Without being too smart.”

“Thank you,” Jared replied, partly as a question. 

“And you look damn good in a suit.”

“Yeah?” he breathed out while Jensen rubbed more intently. Jared could feel his balls draw up tight to his body and he begged his own body to remain as calm as possible. 

Jensen’s lips closed over the lobe of Jared’s ear. Then he whispered, “Did I get it right that time?”

Heart beating faster, Jared fell light headed and leaned back against Jensen’s chest. “I think so.”

“Well, _I_ think that you’re a hard worker.” Jensen squeezed his other hand over Jared’s hip and tightened the press of the one over Jared’s dick, and Jared knew he was close to ending it all. He was also ever thankful it was such a late night in the office, the first time he really was appreciating late nights. “And you’re hard all over, aren’t you?”

Jared’s breathing came out in fits, forcing his words as pants. “Yeah. I work out.”

“I can tell.” Jensen sucked at Jared’s neck for a few, long seconds before breathing cool air across the wet skin. “And I like it.”

It was then that Jensen pressed his hips forward and Jared could feel just how much Jensen liked it—Jensen was hard as well and slowly rocking against Jared’s ass. Jared shivered at the full contact and lost himself in the completeness of Jensen surrounding him until he felt his gut clench and his toes curl. He kept his release to a grunt because there was no way he wanted to break the silence in the room. All energy curled in his belly as he came in his pants and Jensen continued to stroke him through it. 

While Jared fought to keep himself steady, Jensen stepped back and he swept his hands over Jared’s hips. “Clean yourself up,” he said firmly. He walked right out of the room with just a quiet instruction left in his wake. “Meet me in my office.”

Jared waited until Jensen was out of sight. A good minute passed and he figured—hoped—Jensen would be in his large, corner office before he bothered to take a step towards the door. Not long since Jared had started here, he learned to keep a change of clothes in his office. He’d tapped into the reserve often after late nights, but this was entirely different, and so his fingers shook when he plucked a pair of pants out of the large cabinet along one short wall. 

In the bathroom with the clear glass counter and sink bowls, Jared breathed heavily and stared at himself in the mirror. Sweat was gathering at his temples and crimping his hair at the roots. Beyond his soiled pants, his face was blotched red, lips dry, and eyes bloodshot. He was such a fucking mess and there was no way he wanted to face Jensen again. And yet his boss had demanded it. 

He washed himself up, changed, and splashed more water on his face to calm himself. He finger-combed his hair back into some semblance of control then slowly took the walk of shame back to Jensen’s office.

Jensen was standing before his desk with his jacket tie gone, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. When he saw Jared, he leaned back on his desk and motioned Jared forward. Seconds later, Jared was standing before him and Jensen wrapped his fingers around Jared’s tie to tug him closer and down. And then they were kissing. Jensen—The Mad Jackal—Ackles was pressing those soft, perfect, wet lips around Jared’s then slipping his tongue far into Jared’s mouth.

Jared stumbled forward and set his hands on either side of Jensen at the desk and finally responded to the kiss. He opened his mouth wider and slickly wound his tongue around Jensen’s, and apparently he was doing something right because Jensen’s hand tightened on Jared’s tie to pull him closer. Jared dared to move his hand to Jensen’s waist, to replicate what happened in the conference room, no matter how scared he was of being proactive in this dynamic. 

The second his thumb brushed Jensen’s hard dick, Jensen leaned away and released Jared’s tie. “Get down,” he ordered. “On your knees.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied automatically and a tiny smile flashed over Jensen’s face. 

Slowly, Jared got down to the ground half because he couldn’t disobey his boss, but mostly because his mouth was watering at the idea of tasting Jensen, of knowing just how his dick looked with this perfect body always draped in fine suits. 

Jensen let out a slow, dirty smile. “Are you going to put that smart mouth to work?”

Jared’s chest tightened with excitement and want, and he nodded as he felt his cheeks heat up. 

Jensen’s slick smile grew to something more pleased, happy even. “Good.” Neither of them moved for a tense moment until Jensen relaxed back against the desk even more and nodded. “Be confident and sure. Show me how confident you can be.”

Carefully, with shaky hands, Jared undid Jensen’s belt, unbuttoned his pants, and dragged the zipper down. Jensen’s bulge was obvious and beautiful beneath the dark cotton of his expensive boxerbriefs, and Jared had to touch it. He moved his hand over it and saw how Jensen’s hands tightened around the edge of the desk. He rubbed the heel of his palm over Jensen’s dick then steadied his hands to pull Jensen’s underwear below his balls. 

With his breath held, Jared wrapped his hand around Jensen’s smooth dick. No doubt, the length and girth was perfect, but also not enough, so Jared boldly pushed Jensen’s shirt up to see his flat stomach. He leaned forward to suck along the firm planes of muscle and smiled when Jensen sucked in a loud breath and his stomach sank in with the touch of Jared’s lips and tongue on his skin. 

Buoyed by that reaction, by Jensen’s hand landing on Jared’s shoulder, Jared kissed his way south to the gentle curls of Jensen’s hair then kept going until he could wrap his lips around the darkening head of Jensen’s dick. When Jensen’s hand gripped tighter at Jared’s shoulder, Jared opened his mouth and moved down Jensen’s cock. He sucked on his way back up, spit over the head, and easily slid back down with loose saliva. 

Jensen’s hands skated over Jared’s neck and up into his hair. When Jensen’s fingers tightened around strands, Jared started up a steady rhythm while he relished the heat and weight of Jensen’s dick in his mouth. The taste of precome burst on Jared’s tongue and he sucked hard at the head before bobbing back down and up quickly with loud, wet sucking noises echoing in the room with Jensen’s harsh breathing and bitten-off grumbling. 

Jared moved faster to fill his mouth with Jensen’s cock, to bring Jensen off and drag more needy noises from those gorgeous lips of the master commander of a strict office that everyone was afraid to take one wrong step in. His heart beat rapidly through his body with the confidence that he was pleasing his boss, pleasing Jensen, and working the man up to a sharp orgasm. 

As Jensen’s grip on Jared’s hair let up and his hips tipped upward, his knees pressed tight against Jared’s sides. Jared knew Jensen was close so he decided to finish this right and sank down as low as he could so Jensen’s dick pressed deep within his mouth, over and over until Jensen’s fingernails dug into Jared’s scalp and he came in Jared’s mouth. 

Jared backed off to the tip of Jensen’s dick and sucked up the come, savoring the flavor of Jensen as well as the way Jensen went boneless against the desk. He sat back on his heels and glanced up to Jensen with his eyes closed and long eyelashes fluttering against flushed cheeks. With a smile, Jared licked his lips then smiled when Jensen slanted a heavy-lidded, dark look at Jared’s mouth. 

“Confident now?” Jensen asked on a gravelly whisper.

“Yeah. A little.”

“You should be a lot.” Jensen smiled briefly and brushed his hand over Jared’s cheek. Jared leaned into the touch and Jensen smiled a bit more. Pulling his hand away, Jensen’s face cleared of any pleasure and he tucked himself back in and put his pants together. “Go home and get some rest. Tomorrow’s a big day.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared replied quietly as he got to his feet. 

Jensen bit his lower lip and took in Jared from his toes up to his face. “And wear the navy suit.”

“Okay.”

“You look real good in blue.”

Jared let out a repressed grin. “Okay.” With a nod, he got to his feet. “I will. Thank you.”

On his way out the door, he heard Jensen’s quiet, “Thank you,” and he swore he could hear a smile in those two words. 

Jared stopped for just a second and smiled. "Of course, sir."


End file.
